


How it co(ul)da have been

by DrJackAndMissJo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Afterlife, Bobby Singer Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer is Dean Winchester's Parent, Coda, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, Fixing 15x20, Happy, Happy Ending, Heaven, I don't even know how to tag this, M/M, Mentions of everyone who has ever been wronged by the writers, This is literally me fixing the way they wrote the episode, and fixing the plotholes, fuck that party city wig, other than, yes the title is a pun come at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27684002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackAndMissJo/pseuds/DrJackAndMissJo
Summary: In the end, it didn’t hurt.He always thought that he deserved that final pain, the last reminder that he was going away too soon, with too much work still to do. But there was none of that now. He was still a mess, but at least he wasn’t in pain, just like he hoped to.***A different coda to the "final" episode of Spn, one where there is justice for all the characters.Read it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 145
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	How it co(ul)da have been

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally on 23/11/2020
> 
> dISCLAIMER: I HATE THE WAY THEY ENDED THINGS SO I tried to fix it. It literally would've taken them so little to make it perfect, but noo they had to give us 20 fucking minutes of a shitty montage, going against everything the characters stood for. I am so fucking angry. ABout it all.  
> So This is me writing something coherent to fix that hot mess, don’t worry I am working on another one that will fix the entire episode since it was flawed at the beginning. HMU on Tumblr if you want to talk about it cause I’m gonna make Destiel content till I die.  
> Anyway, all it would’ve taken for the episode to be good instead of the garbage fire it was, would’ve been a fucking clip of Misha and Jensen in the Impala, am I asking for too much? Since he was in Heaven already and all. Anyway I’m never going to shut up about how dirty they did my comfort character Dean Winchester, so I’m just gonna ignore them and just like I did with HP, adopt those babies and let them live happy.  
> Seriously though, only Sam gets the happy ending? Fuck off  
> SO here it is! I hope I managed to fix that mess.  
> Enjoy.

In the end, it didn’t hurt.

He always thought that he deserved that final pain, the last reminder that he was going away too soon, with too much work still to do. But there was none of that now. He was still a mess, but at least he wasn’t in pain, just like he hoped to.

Not physically, at least. He could feel the rebar pierce his skin, simultaneously holding him together long enough while breaking him apart, but it didn’t hurt. It was almost like a comforting presence, a reminder that his job was done and that he could rest now.

Of course, after a life of suffering, of fighting, it was just such a pathetic way to go. And sure, being impaled in such a cliché comic-relief way was never Dean’s ideal passing, but at least it was painless and quick, and it was more than someone like Dean deserved.

He didn’t even feel the piece of metal go through, when he pushed and was pushed against it, not until his lungs had begun to burn with each passing breath and until blood started to rise in his throat, pulsing and itching up in tandem with his fading heart, making his words more difficult and his thoughts more scattered.

It was somewhat poetic, managing to defeat God Himself and then being defeated by a rusty piece of metal, on his own terms.

At least he had gotten his shots throughout his life, it would’ve been really sad and long to die of tetanus.

He was thankful for the lack of pain in his body, his heart had already taken too much sorrow during the last couple of days and he needed to say a proper goodbye to his brother, a clean albeit tearful one.

Dean was starting to fade away before he had even managed to catch Sam’s attention, yet all he could think about was: “ _Finally_ ”. All the peace he had yearned for, since he was a child, it was all coming to him, he could feel it.

He had always known that this would be his ending, his destiny was to pass away with a gun in his hand during a hunt gone south, one final blaze of glory before his final breath, a hot trail of dead monsters in his wake. And, during the years, he had died many times, screwing up all the statistics and the odds, but it never felt final.

There was always a voice in the back of his head that reminded him that his story was far from done, that he hadn’t earned his rest yet. There were still too many monsters to kill, supernatural entities to defeat. There was always a world to save from destruction.

And so, he always kept on fighting, tooth and nail, giving his all and losing himself in the battles, making sure he always did the right thing and let the Light win.

But his work was done now and he deserved his rest. He had done it all, lived past 30, killed Death, defeated God, Lucifer and everything in between. Hell, he had even killed Hitler! He _needed_ his peace. He had earned it.

Dean could feel the way his soul was already leaving his body, as if eager to move on, to reunite with all the people he had lost during the years, eventually waiting for his little brother to show up, whenever he was ready. And Dean was ready, so utterly ready to just close his eyes and wake up in a happier place, definitely better than he deserved. He wouldn’t be surprised if they cast him down once again, for all he had destroyed throughout the years. But he knew that that wasn’t possible. He had someone that looked out for him upstairs.

And with Jack being the All-Mighty, ruling the world, making sure that everything was pretty and good? Well, now that his son was in charge, Dean could finally ease. He could put the gun away, unafraid and happy. Hell, he’d definitely be able to eat to his heart’s content, now that he didn’t have to care about his ‘ _fragile human body’_ , as Castiel loved to remind him.

Cas.

Dean had prayed to Jack all night, that first day, begging for a sign that he was back, that he was alright, that they would’ve met again. All that he had gotten back in the morning was a single white flower, placed on his pillow, next to his head. It was a miracle, really, how he hadn’t crumpled it in his tossing and turning during his sleep, in his restlessness. It was perfect and at the perfect time.

Because with that little sign, Dean had begun to hope again.

Now, his suspicions could finally be answered, he realized happily. He would see _him_ again, he would hold him close and never let go. He could finally say the words that clawed at the back of his throat every time he was around the angel, he could finally let himself be happy.

They could be happy, if only Cas let him.

His only regret was leaving his little brother behind, after all of those years when he had to be both Father and Mother to him. But, at least, he knew that he wasn’t alone.

He had Eileen back, to help him and to be by his side in his hours of need. And he was going to need all the help he could get, with how deep their co-dependency ran.

At least, Sammy had found happiness again, a shining light at the end of the grim tunnel that was their lives. She understood the pain, the trauma, the waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and pouring a salt ring around the bed. She understood the life and she might be what Sam needed to settle down, to help the new generation of hunters make the world a better place, to live the normal life he had always dreamed of, mixed with all the weird stuff that they had grown up with.

His only regret was leaving him like this, dying in his arms, the roles reversed after so many years. He was upset about leaving so soon, but he had to. Sammy knew that.

And with one last goodbye, he closed his eyes. _Finally_.

*******

He had died enough times to know pretty well how it would all go down.

He would close his eyes forever, as he felt the energy leave his body for the last time, and he would meet a reaper that would escort him either up or down, depending on how he had behaved.

When Billie was around, she always told him that her most fervent wish would be to just send him away, in neither of those places. It was way too easy coming back from there and she liked for things to stay dead. Instead, she would chuck him and Sam in the middle of the Universe and just leave them there, for eternity. She would have created a limbo just for the two of them, or maybe she would have sent them into the Empty, to remain asleep and harmless to her plans.

But he had killed her, so her plan was out. He doubted the new Death would give them the same treatment, not with Jack around.

And now he had absolutely no idea of where he might end up. It both thrilled and terrified him to no end. For the first time in years, he wasn’t so sure of the outcome of his death.

Dean knew his way around Hell, he had been there many times, not always as a prisoner, and with Rowena in charge and ruling the place as Queen, he was sure it wouldn’t have been terrible. But, of course, it was still Hell and terrible came in with the description.

Yet, deep down, he knew that he didn’t deserve that fate. Not anymore.

Not that his son would have let him rot down there forever, Dean like to think that he had raised the kid better than that. He was sure he would have pulled a page from Castiel’s book, if they came down to it.

He was sure that they hadn’t seen the last of each other just yet.

Before his first death and before the whole Angels and Demons package deal, he had always wondered how the afterlife would have been for someone like him. Especially for someone like him.

Many considered people like him as abominations, against nature. But how could something like love be against nature, he wondered during his many restless nights. And then there was the conundrum about him being a murdered, a stone-cold death machine.

Surely someone like him didn’t deserve salvation.

Still, he entranced in the thought of what Heaven could be like, if he was granted admission. He imagined it to be full of light and of singing and of prayers, a metaphysical place that had nothing to do with the real-life, happy and distant from all the sorrow that distinguished the human condition, populated by kind souls and angels with halos and fluffy wings, all of them singing and playing harps and violins to their hearts’ content.

And then he had actually gotten into the place and found out how badly he was mistaken.

There was no happy singing there, Heaven was just made of plain white walls with plain white doors, all in an endless maze of souls. It was ruled by asshole bureaucrats who didn’t care about the humans. They just had a job to do and would do it mindlessly, uncaring if they casually switched to the wrong side, as long as they hit their goals.

The premise was nice, though: spending eternity inside one’s favourite memories from their time on Earth, sharing them with their loved ones? Now, that was something Dean could get behind pretty easily.

But now that they had changed owner and regime, and changed all the rules to the game?

Dean really doubted that Jack had left everything as he had found it. The kid had moved all the furniture inside his room at the bunker three times before he got exactly the layout he wanted. No, Dean was confident that his son had taken a look at the obscene walls and just, tore them down with a flick of his hand, remodelling the entire place to his heart’s content.

He had probably revolutionised the place, done a full 180 and gone ham on the nougat.

Perhaps it was best that way, Dean thought. He trusted his son with his life, quite literally, and he believed he’d done an amazing job, even before seeing it.

Besides, there was a very long list of all the things that would have been better than sharing a single paradise with his brother, relieving his own happiest memories, while a knife twisted in his chest at the knowledge that Sammy’s fondest memories either didn’t picture him or were straight out of his worst nightmares.

It was better like this, he reasoned as he felt his soul leave his body. He had no way of knowing what would come next and, for once, he didn’t need to prepare for the worst. Because there would be no worst and that was the only consolation Dean needed to finally rest in peace and tranquillity.

And so he went, willingly, expecting to meet a reaper and get into the final ride of his life.

He expected to be greeted by someone or something. He had died enough times to know how this worked. He had gone through the system a lot during the years and never once did they skip this passage.

And yet, no one showed up. One moment he was still alive, saying goodbye to Sam, making it sound more like a ‘ _see you later’_ , and the next he was alone, in some woods he had no recognition of.

He tried to sort through his brain, looking for whatever memory this was supposed to be, but nothing felt right. He could not remember the scenery, not the building that was next to him.

For one scary moment, he thought he hadn’t made it. He thought that his lack of recognition for his surroundings was suspicious and his mind spiralled for the worst. Was this the last happy and peaceful thing he would see in eternity?

But the moment was fleeting. The air was too clear and it smelled too nicely, the birds were too chippy, loud enough to animate the back of his thoughts without being intrusive or lousy, and the calming scenery in front of him was too beautiful for this to be a cruel joke on him.

“Well, at least I made it to Heaven,” he said out loud, to no one in particular. It was a nice feeling, the way the wind seemed to carry away his words. Perhaps Jack could hear him and would swing by. Perhaps the road will show him the way to the kid. Perhaps someone in particular could pop up out of the blue like he used to and Dean could finally breathe easily, foregoing all the sorrow that had chocked him before.

And now that he truly was upstairs, well, he was free, able to be at peace with his mind. He just needed to find the idiot in a trench coat first, everything else was secondary.

Or at least so he thought.

“Yup,” came an unexpected reply from a very familiar voice, one that he had heard many times and that he hoped to hear many more again. And indeed there he was, sitting down on a porch like the old man he was.

Despite having a different version on Earth, Dean couldn’t help himself but miss the old and grumpy man that had raised him. Bobby Singer had taught him how to be a boy before he was a soldier, how to be a man before he was a weapon. He was the one that bothered to learn his comfort foods and that took him to play games and to doctor check-ups, when John left him and Sammy at his place for days or weeks or months.

He had always thought, back in his youth, that he had only one father and that it was best to keep him in his life, no matter how much it hurt him to follow orders blindly. But, like Jack, he had more dads than most. And Bobby Singer was the best father he could have wished for, Dean had realised as he drew from his lessons to raise his own son.

And to see him there, in his personal Heaven, it made Dean’s heart swell. It wasn’t hard to understand why Bobby was in one of his fondest memories, after all.

“What memory is this?”

He really couldn’t pin-point the location or the timeline, no matter how far along he dug. Perhaps Heaven had mixed things up, creating something that hadn’t happened, but that Dean sure hoped for. But that thought didn’t sit too right with him.

“It ain’t, you idjit!” the old man replied with his usual brisk yet affectionate tone.

Oh, just how much had he missed that voice! Hearing the alternate Bobby speak just wasn’t the same thing.

“How? I mean, I’m not complaining, but last I heard you were in Heaven’s lockup,” he said, moving to sit in the empty spot next to the older man. It was clear that he had been there, expecting Dean to get his peachy ass up, and the knowledge warmed him deeply. After all, he knew that his father and his mother were already there, but having Bobby right there meant more to him. And he really wanted to know whether or not _‘I had a weekend free so I built a bunker’_ Singer had kicked angel butt to get out of his prison.

“Was. Now I’m not. That kid of yours made some changes around here, as you can clearly see for yourself. He busted my ass out and set some things right. He tore down all the walls up here, saying how Heaven shouldn’t have been just reliving your golden oldies forever. Now, this place is like it should’ve always been. Everyone happy, everyone together, able to do whatever you want just as on Earth with the people you love. Only without the ticking clock. I think this is a lot better than just being stuck in the past, don’t you agree?”

Dean was speechless. This was everything he had wished and hoped for. Time, with the people he loved. And now he had it all, without having to worry about monsters or diabetes or arthritis. He could finally relax fully, going to that beach he had always dreamed of, with toes in the sand and a little umbrella on his drink.

The only thing he needed, now, was to find him and get going.

“It is pretty nice,” he managed to reply, letting all his happiness melt into the words. He was holding back his tears, he had probably never been this relieved or content in his entire time on Earth. The only time that came this close was the day when Castiel had come back to him, all those years ago.

But the tears were not gonna stay in forever, especially as soon as he found him again. Screw chick flick moments, he was going full Danielle Steel on his ass as soon as he saw his face.

Yet there was no trace of him anywhere. Dean was so sure that he was up there, he could feel his presence in the air itself. There was no way Jack would have let him in the Empty and there was no way his feelings were wrong.

He needed to know but couldn’t bring himself to ask directly. This was Heaven and yet he was still scared.

Bobby, of course, managed to read his discomfort and handed him a beer. He had never needed words, that man, to know exactly what Dean needed.

He almost choked and teared up at the taste. “It’s the exact same stuff you always kept at your place when I was growing up!” he yelled excitedly, unable to keep the smile off his face at the memory.

“Quality stuff, right?” Bobby joked, taking his own sip. He knew that it tasted like crap, told him himself, but the fondness made it all worth the terrible ashy aftertaste.

And they remained like that, enjoying the quiet scenery, drinking cheap beer.

This was definitely better than just reliving some good recollection from Earth.

“Tell me, who’s up here?” he asked when he was done with his bottle, setting it on the wooden floor and enjoying the wat it immediately disappeared, just like he had hoped it would.

Bobby mimicked him, settling deeper in his chair and crossing his hand, seemingly lost in thought. “Well, everybody that did good,” he said, a comforting smile on his lips that Dean couldn’t help but imitate.

It was just so easy, being there in peace. It was all he had ever dreamed of. Well, almost all.

“Don’t worry,” Bobby continued, turning to look back at him, “you’ll have time to see everyone again. The whole gang is here. Rufus lives down that road, not far, and he’s always back here bothering me about gardening tools. Somehow he managed to bag Aretha, that old git! Don’t know how, though.”  
“Aretha? As in, _that_ Aretha?” Dean asked, unable to process the new information. There was always one Aretha, that Rufus never managed to shut up about whenever he got enough booze down his system, and the thought of her with him was simultaneously upsetting and uplifting.

That place really had changed, all thanks to his kid.

Bobby huffed out a laugh at his disbelief: “How many Arethas do you know? Show some respect! Granted, I thought she’d have better taste. Then,” he added, pointing off in the distance, “there’s old Missouri somewhere over there, she’s knitting Lord knows what for her son and granddaughter. Probably gonna bake you a pie if you swing by. Who else? Oh, Ellen reopened her roadhouse nearby with her husband and we’re all gonna meet there eventually, for your welcoming party. Jo’s here too, off somewhere with Charlie and Kevin.”  
“Really? Last we saw him, he was a ghost on Earth, unable to get in,” Dean said, happy that he had found a way in. He had been so upset and sad, knowing that he was doomed to stay there and lose his mind, all because Chuck was a dick. He had searched all of Rowena’s spell-books with Sam, looking for another spell like the one-time thing they did for Eileen, with no luck.  
“Yeah, he told me that,” Bobby said, taking out another beer for himself. “But Jack’s in charge now and he also pulled him up here. I’ll tell you only once, that son of yours. You raised him good.”

He almost cried at the admission, but managed to keep his composure as he took a bottle for himself as well. It was really good, having Bobby tell him that he had done a good job. Not that he needed the reassurance, he knew Jack. But it was nice nevertheless.

“Anyway,” Bobby continued “the three of them are up to I don’t know what shenanigans, but I bet they’re exploring this place and having the time of their afterlives. I also saw that other brother of yours, couple of days back, going back to his mother’s, after having said hello to your old folks. Oh, and Jack also fixed Purgatory. Said that it wasn’t right for good monsters to have to go there, never resting. The bad ones, stay there, but those like Garth and your vamp friend, not so much. He’s around here somewhere, I’m sure you’ll run into him.”

Dean leaned back on his chair, taking everything in.

“So, Jack did all of this?” he asked, unable to keep the pride off his voice. He and Cas and Sam had done a really good job with that kid.

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded, taking a sip. Then, he added: “Cas helped.” He simply said that, as if it wasn’t what Dean had wanted to hear since he had gotten up there. As if he knew that Dean had to hold himself from asking about his Angel.  
“Is he…?” he choked, it was impossible for him to finish the sentence.

What if he didn’t want to see him? What if he hated him? What if his confession didn’t match Dean’s feelings?

He didn’t know what he was more scared of: rejection from the love of his life, while still being able to be friends, or the utter silence that had filled his last days on Earth. Dean hated not being able to talk to Castiel, hated not being able to hear his voice. But nothing was better than a door shoved in his face.

Bobby simply placed a hand on his shoulder, shoving him a little and nodding off to the side. “Why don’t you ask him yourself, idjit?”

He couldn’t believe his eyes as he did: there he was, propped on the hood of the Impala, newly shined with some heavenly magic, with his legs dangling off the floor. He was lacking his usual trench coat, but Dean kept religiously a clean one in the car since that horrible day with Billie and the Empty, just in case he needed to hold it while he cried and begged for the pain to stop, and he was sure that it was still there, tucked in the corner of the hood where he had left it before his last hunt. Cas had a contemplative look on his face, but his expression was serene and tranquil, as a few little bees flown in front of him. He was at peace.

Dean turned around quickly, jumping to his feet and facing Bobby with real terror in his veins. All those unsaid words were burning his lungs and all of the _‘What if?_ ’ occupied his mind, sending him into a spiral. There he was, his best friend, the love of his life, his Angel. 

There was the man he loved, and Dean didn’t know how to react.

He wanted to throw himself at Cas, to hold him for eternity, never letting go. He wanted to punch him, for leaving and for not giving him the time to say those words back. He wanted so many things, but he was terrified as well.

One of his deepest fears laid there, in front of him. Bobby knew how close the two were, he had to. But there was no telling of his support, of his reaction. He had no way of controlling the way everyone would think of him and so he always chose to hide, to avoid the conflict.

But he didn’t want to hide anymore. He had bled and fought and died for this peace, and the only way he was getting his very well earned happiness, was with his Angel alongside him.

Of course, his fear was irrational. It took only one look at Bobby to realise that. The older man was looking at him softly with unbridled joy, teary-eyed and warm smile. “What are you waiting for, you idjit?”

“You’re okay with this?” Dean asked. He had to know, he had to confirm, he had to.

And, once again, he was surprised to hear his voice. “Dean, I wished you’d pulled your head out of your ass sooner. You deserve happiness. You deserve _him_. And anyone who’s got a problem with that would never get up here, to disrupt your peace. And, even if they managed to pass under your boy’s radar, I have a shotgun here, ready to use.”

He simply nodded along, unable to reply without crying himself. “I’ll see you later,” he simply told him, before taking one last steadying breath and turning away, towards his Angel.

He had always been beautiful, so much that it hurt to look at him for too long. Especially when he had to keep his heart quiet, ignoring the way it roared at him to get closer. But here, surrounded by his angelic grace, with the calmest and most content expression Dean had ever seen on his face, he looked every bit the angel he was. He had understood why humanity was so enchanted with angels the moment he had first seen him. He understood all of the paintings and all of the poems.

And, even though the majority of the angels he had dealt with turned out being major dicks, there he was always, the exception to the rule, the most beautiful and pure being in the entire creation.

Dean was incredibly lucky he had already fallen in love with him on Earth, luckier that by some miracle his feelings might be corresponded, because he wouldn’t have stood a chance otherwise. One look at this Cas, this powerful being that radiated love and peace, and he would have combusted on the spot.

And he was thankful for every single moment of his torturous existence around him, every instant of pain that came from having to keep his heart locked tight and his mouth shut, lest he spilt his deepest secret to his most trusted confidant. Because, at the end of the day, keeping quiet meant being sure that Castiel would’ve stood by his side, no matter what. And that was worth all the suffering.

But now? Now that he could do more than just stare from a distance at the radiant sun that was his Angel, too afraid to break his fragile happiness with his ruinous hands?

Now Heaven was his oyster and he would have not wasted a single instant of his new eternity with him.

And so he ran, uncaring if he startled Cas or that Bobby was still looking at him. He couldn’t help himself: for days, this was all he could think about. For years.

He had had 11 years of pining and of love, all locked down inside of his heart, and they were finally bursting open. He could finally have what he had yearned for, if only he was brave enough to say it out loud.

After all, Castiel had already done his confession. It was his turn now.

And so he threw himself at the arms of the angel he loved, who would always catch him in his fall.

He buried his face in the crook of his neck as he held on for dear life, savouring the way Cas’ arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer. He felt the tears rise up and he let them flow, unable to keep them in check any longer, uncaring of anything. Castiel had already seen him cry, even ugly cry, and yet he always remained next to him. Somehow, Dean knew that he would never leave. Therefore he let himself cry.

His were tears of sadness, at the thought of having to leave his brother alone, so soon after the end of the world. They were all the mourning tears he hadn’t been able to shed after Castiel’s death, always having to push forward in his constant battling. They were tears of joy, that he had kept away for too long.

He was finally able to let all that pain leave his body and his soul, because he was in Heaven with the love of his life and there was nothing separating them anymore.

And Cas just held him, leaning on him and holding on for dear life, reciprocating his embrace.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, simply basking in each other’s light, content in just being together. But Dean had never felt happier and he would never want to let go.

Yet, he had feelings that needed to be expressed, emotions that needed to be felt and, yes, lips that needed to be kissed senselessly.

“Cas…” he started, unable to remove himself from his Angel.

“Hello, Dean.”

“I love you,” he said, voice still muffled on the lapels of Cas’ jacket, uncaring if his back would start hurting soon at the weird angle his body was. He had to say it as soon as he could. He had wasted too long not saying it.

And now that the words were out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop repeating them. It was a chant, the sting of _‘I love you’_ that left his nerve wrecked body. It was relief in its purest form, relief at not having to hold himself back any longer. 

“I love you, Castiel, with everything I have and am,” he finished, removing his face from its hiding place, uncaring if he had tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. This was Heaven, after all, and he was sure he didn’t look that ugly anyway.

And Cas, bless his wonderful soul and grace, still held him like he was something precious, moved his hands to cup both his cheeks and gently caressed him. Dean leaned into the touch, unable to suppress himself any longer. He didn’t have to refrain anymore; he was finally free to do something he had waited years for.

He leaned forward, capturing Castiel’s smile with his, wrapping his arms around his neck, to never let go.

It was, hands down, the best kiss he had ever received. Cas’ lips were soft against his and they managed to catch up with his rhythm quickly, neither of them wanting to waste a single moment. They both had waited too long, pined too hard. They had both fought and died for this.

Dean pushed Castiel off the hood, never once letting his lips go, arms still locked behind him, cushioning his fall with the rest of his body, enjoying the way they seemed to fit together. He had dreamed of this, more times than he could recount.

But nothing came close to the reality.

Nothing came close to Cas’ little sighs of content; nothing came close to the way his body melted under his touch. Nothing came close to having him in his arms, finally.

Eternities could have passed, and Dean wouldn’t have cared. He had his entire world right there with him, finally, after years of suffering and pain. He had his happiness.

“I love you,” he said, one more time, just because he could, when they both needed to break their kiss to breathe. He didn’t even know if he still needed to do that now, but it didn’t matter. The action gave him an excuse to say it again and he was sure he’d never stop, now that that door was open.

Cas smiled at him, as if he couldn’t believe either that those words were true. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead over Dean’s gently, sighing contently.

Dean might have been already in Heaven, but this was his Paradise.

He felt the way Cas’ hand moved downwards, going to rest at his lower back, both basking in each other’s presence.

“I love you,” he said again, physically unable to stop, placing a soft kiss to his nose and cheeks and eyes. He wanted to map his entire body, now that he had eternity to do so.

But then, Cas spoke softly: “I know.”

And Dean just had to remove himself from their embrace, arms still intertwined with Castiel’s, as he carefully looked at his face in disbelief.

“Did you just Han Solo’d me?”  
“Perhaps,” was the sheepish reply, that coloured Cas’ perfect face with pink cheeks. He was adorable and Dean couldn’t help himself but placing a small kiss on the top of his nose.

He had never been this happy.  
“God, I love you so much!” he exclaimed, returning to his original position, hugging Cas so tight to his body that he couldn’t tell where either ended and the other began.  
“I would prefer if you didn’t put my father nor Jack in this,” Cas puzzledly replied, causing Dean to hold on tighter as doubled over him and laughed to his heart’s content, his body shaking softly.

There weren’t words profound enough to describe his relief at having his Angel back with him, deep enough to describe all the emotions he felt. All he could do was repeat _“I love you”_ until the End of Time. And he would.

“And I love you, Dean,” Castiel said back, teary-eyed as well, as he gently caressed his cheeks again, stroking his thumbs over the wrinkled skin as his mouth broke in another blinding smile.

And Dean couldn’t help himself from kissing that smile again, and again, and again.

There were only he and Castiel and he was finally able to be free.

It wasn’t until his legs were aching and his heart was full, for now, that he remembered that they might have had an audience.

He quickly turned around, unable to let go of Cas as he did so, only to find the porch empty. Thankfully Bobby seemed to have understood the situation and had left them alone. Dean was sure he was never going to hear the end of it, though, but he was happy, nevertheless. He had the love of his life in his arms and the approval of the best father he could’ve hoped for.

He returned his face to the crook of Cas’ neck for good measure, sighing deeply and happily as his Angel rubbed his back, smoothing out the aching muscles.

“What do you want to do, now?” he asked from up above. Dean could hear his smile from his voice, a predicament he was sure mimicked his own.

He didn’t think he’d be able to stop smiling ever again, now.

“Why don’t you start telling me what happened here?”

Cas nodded and they untangled themselves, hands still clasped tight in each as they moved to seat comfortably on the hood of the Impala.

How many times had Dean dreamed of something like this, something so perfect and peaceful? And now that he had finally gotten this, he couldn’t believe his luck.

“Jack happened,” Cas began in earnest, pride hearable in his words, “after he took on Chuck’s powers, he opened the doors of the Empty, letting all of the angels and demons leave so that they could get back to sleep.”  
“All of them?” he asked, panicking a little inside. He had thought that his work was done, for good, but it the Empty was now, well, _empty_ , it could mean troubles. It could mean Cas leaving.

Luckily for him, Cas simply held on to his hand harder, grasping him and making sure his mind didn’t wander to ugly places. “No, not all. Michael and Lucifer are still there, alongside the Knight and Princes of Hell, and they will never get out. The rest is under new management, here or in Hell. Gabriel and Balthazar, alongside others, being the angels how had lived most among humans, have been tasked with running Heaven, making it better than it once was. Rowena made Crowley her lieutenant and they are under renovations in the jurisdiction of Hell as well.”

“It’s a new world, all thanks to our son,” he stated, looking up at the sky above. He could feel his presence, all around them. But he also knew that Jack was there, somewhere, and they would meet again soon.

“So, the Empty?” he asked, wanting the confirmation that all their suffering hadn’t been for nothing. Wanting to have the confirmation that Cas was there, with him, and that he was going to stay there forever, “All nice and quiet again?”  
“Yes, and they will not wake up for a very long time. What else?” Cas began thinking, racking through his mind to find any missing piece of information. That gave Dean the perfect opportunity to just gaze upon him, marvelling at his beauty. The light was both reflecting from his jaw and emanating from him, his grace pure and whole again. He wondered, not for the first time, if he was going to be able to see his wings, finally. He had dreamed of them a lot during their life together on Earth, sometimes picturing them pitch black, beautiful and majestic, other times imagining them to be prismatic, a rainbow of colour that shone light to the world, just like he had been told his aura was. Either way, he was buzzing to finally be able to see them, to finally be able to see him in his entire glory.

“The first Death came back as well, repopulating the ranks of the reapers after what Billie did,” Cas finished, brushing his thumb on the back of Dean’s hand reassuringly, giving him the most blinding smile Dean had ever seen.

He would never get tired of staring at him, at his Angel.  
“Good, although I did wonder why nobody showed up to get me up here. Making me do all the work myself,” he joked, playfully shoving Cas’ shoulder with his and casually leaning his head there, making it rest on the spot. He closed his eyes for good measure, enjoying the way Cas’ body seemed to radiate heat and love.  
“That was intentional,” he said, lowering his voice as if to whisper a secret. Dean supposed it was partially true, it being a secret only between them and Jack, when he continued: “You, after everything, didn’t need to go through the paperwork, to put it nicely.”

“So, what, I got a priority ticket to Heaven?” he joked, turning his head back up to stare at the deep blue eyes that populated all of his dreams.  
“Precisely.”  
And he smiled down at him, beautiful and wide and honest.

Dean couldn’t tell how long they just remained like that, the only sign of time pass coming from the sky above. It moved slowly and too fast at the same time, night falling way too soon and showing a series of constellations that Dean had never seen before in his life. He doubted that the scenery was visible anyway on Earth.

“What now?” Cas asked softly, breaking the silence with that delicious voice of his. Dean never wanted to stop listening to his voice.

“We could go for a drive,” he suggested in a quiet voice, not really knowing what the destination would look like. He just wanted to get in Baby and drive around Heaven, with Castiel by his side, shotgunning and badly singing along with his music. He just wanted to be next to him, like he always was on Earth, only now with the ability to reach over the console and to grab his hand, never letting go.

“There is a place, not far from here, that I imagined for us,” Cas added sheepishly, as if he was embarrassed by the admission. 

“For us?” Dean asked, his heart soaring up with joy. He had always wanted just this: a place he could rest, with him. But he still asked, needing the confirmation. He couldn’t believe his luck, even after everything he had done to ensure his happiness.

Cas nodded his answer instead of speaking it, holding onto Dean’s hand tighter to convey all the words he wasn’t saying. 

“Show me the way, then.”

They hopped on the ground in tandem, reluctantly letting go of each other’s hand only after they shared a quick and chaste kiss. Dean briefly mourned the loss of Cas’ heat next to him, only to be reminded that he did get to have all the happiness he deserved, for eternity.

They got into Baby together, Castiel shotgun as always, as Dean marvelled at the way the steering wheel still felt under his hands. She still had all the bumps in the right places and, when he started her, she purred to life like she always did on Earth. Paradise indeed, he thought with joy.

He let Cas open the radio, although the driver picked the music and shotgun shut their cakehole. He had never let Sammy chose, back down, but Cas was different. Cas knew his favourite station; he knew which cassette to put in whenever Dean was down or tired. Castiel knew him.

And he trusted Castiel with his life.

Still, it was nice nevertheless when his suspicious and knowledge came true, when Cas pressed the right buttons to make the radio settle on _‘Carry on My Wayward Son_ ’ by KANSAS.

How many times had Dean driven around with that music in the background, jamming his fingers in time on the wheel? How many times had he listened to it, letting the tune bring him peace and calm, or just to hype himself up for a hunt?

“I love this song!” he yelled happily, laughing at how effortlessly blissful he was. It was just so easy, being happy with Cas.

Dean grabbed his hand, just because he could, because he had wasted too much time on Earth not doing it, and placed a kiss to the back of it, closing his eyes to thank his lucky stars. He didn’t let go when he had to move the shift gear, choosing to sandwich Cas’ hand below his in between the metal and leather. Just like he had always wished he could do.

Just because he now could do both: drive and hold the love of his life, without refrains.

And so, off they went, driving away into the sunset, uncaring of the destination, just enjoying the ride.

Like he had always dreamed of.

**Author's Note:**

> IF I SEE ONE FOREHEAD TOUCH OTHER THAN A DEAN AND CAS ONE I WILL BURN THE WORLD DOWN THIS IS MY VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY CATCH ME MAKING DESTIEL FLUFF IN HEAVEN UNTIL I FINALLY MEET SAINT PETER MYSELF, HE IS GONNA OPEN THE FUCKING GATES FOR ME AND MAKE ME WATCH DABB AND KRIPKE AND ALL THOSE ASSHOLES (EXCEPT BOBO WE LOVE BOBO) GET KICKED DOWN IN THE FIERY PITS OF HELL.  
> three things, I made Dean basically unalive himself because I refuse to believe he's been bested by a fucking bolt come at me.  
> AND Bobby gets bored one day and goes down to Hell to hunt homophobes and transphobes and racists with his shotgun, yes I make the rules.  
> AND Dean beats the shit out of J*nh before sending him down on Hell were he should be, having that asshole in Heaven is  
> a hate crime bigger than the finale  
> Hope you all enjoyed this!  
> Please don't forget to comment!  
> Till next time,  
> Jo


End file.
